


arms and the women

by aces



Category: Invisible Man, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Crossover, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-14
Updated: 2010-02-14
Packaged: 2017-10-07 06:25:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aces/pseuds/aces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Carter collects geeks, and Claire is one of the prettier ones.</p>
            </blockquote>





	arms and the women

Sam collected hard science geeks whenever she could, but it was harder than it should be because she was a discriminating collector and she had to _like_ them.

She definitely liked Claire.

And Claire was definitely one of the prettier ones.

Claire worked for the government too—ex-DoD, something else now that she never quite seemed to name—more medically-oriented than Sam, but they still spoke the same languages. They'd met years back at a conference and had gotten pissed and griped about working for the establishment, and since then they liked to meet up whenever they happened to be in the same geographical region. It was a perfect opportunity to drink and bitch about confidentiality, being classified into near non-existence, and advising idiots who didn't know what they were talking about ordering them to do things that might accidentally blow the planet up or let loose a virus that would kill everyone.

(Sam always made sure not to include General Hammond in that last group, and Claire usually made concessions for her current boss. Usually.)

"Go on, Sam!" Claire was roaring as Sam picked up her—she had no idea what number she was on now—vodka shot. She tossed it back, didn't gag, and smirked at her companion, who was cheering with all the gusto and energy of an entire high school cheerleading squad.

Claire slid off her barstool with a little less than her customary grace and style. "C'mon," she yelled over the thrumming beat of the music and muted roar of a hundred people talking, dancing, making out. "Dance!"

Sam pulled on Claire's hand, dragging her closer to Sam's stool so she wouldn't have to yell quite so much. There was the added attraction of being that much closer to Claire, too, of course. "Are you crazy?! I can't _move_!"

Claire's only response was to laugh at her and trip away to the dance floor.

Sam stared at her and grinned so hard she could feel the chipmunk-cheek syndrome coming on, but she didn't even give a damn. They'd finished with the bitching hours ago and had long passed into the letting-loose portion of the evening.

Claire sometimes amazed her. Even in public, Claire had no trouble doing outrageous things (maybe the alcohol levels had something to do with it). Like dancing drunkenly right now all by herself in the middle of a crowd of people. Points for energy and creative use of limbs and flying hair, if not for the actual steps, Sam decided with a grin threatening to explode her chipmunk cheeks.

_I should come to California more often_, she thought to herself as she jumped off the stool, wobbled only for a moment, and slipped her way through the people crushing at the bar to get drinks.

Claire was dancing mostly by herself in the middle of the floor, people passing around and occasionally grinding against her. Sam slid into the space near her and closed her eyes, moving instinctively to the beat.

The alcohol in her system slowed the world down a little, and it took a moment for her to realize someone had put their arms around her shoulders and was moving with her, against her. She opened her eyes, and the grin on her face took its sweet time reaching its full potential.

Claire leant in to speak in her ear. "Back to my place?"

Sam nodded languorously and followed as Claire pulled her toward the door.

By the time they found a cab, the sweat had dried off their skin, and Sam was a little more sober and awake, and they sat in the back a little closer than may have been strictly necessary, pooling their body warmth. Claire's long hair was still damp, clinging to her face, and Sam had no idea how she'd been able to dance so long in those thigh-high boots of hers, and that pleather skirt must be hell, but she showed no signs of discomfort.

Sam slipped out of the red heels that matched her strapless little dress the instant they were out of the cab, and ran up the steps behind Claire, waiting for her to unlock the door, her heart beating impatiently.

She walked in first, stopped in the front hallway and turned in time to see Claire shut and relock the door. Claire turned around. Sam grinned.

Somehow, she ended up with her back pressing into the door, when she was sure it should have been the other way round. Not that she minded. She'd had a thing about long blonde hair ever since first running into one of her alternative-reality doubles, and her hands were now pushed into Claire's hair, holding the other woman's neck steady as she bit at Claire's lower lip.

"Shoes," Claire whispered against Sam's teeth, and Sam slid smoothly down, letting her hands trail down Claire's breasts, stomach, hips, until she hit the tops of her boots. She unzipped them both at the same time.

"Clever," Claire smirked, and Sam grinned up at her, chipmunk cheeks to the max.

They made it up the stairs slowly, in part because they were still kissing, in part because they had to avoid tripping over Pavlov. (Claire had asked once what happened to Schrödinger. Sam had said she'd given him away to a friend.) They scattered various bits of clothing along the way—there really wasn't that much to scatter in the first place—and Sam couldn't stop running her hands through Claire's long, long hair.

"You should grow yours out," Claire grinned slyly as Sam slid onto the bed with her.

"No way," Sam laughed. "I look weird with long hair." She kissed between Claire's breasts. "Why are we discussing my hair?" she added in a whisper.

"Good question," Claire said.

And that was the end of the conversation for a while.


End file.
